


The Red Regicide

by rostropovich



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Canon Divergence, Drabbles, Gen, wholesome at times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-05 09:13:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12791400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rostropovich/pseuds/rostropovich
Summary: A collection of drabbles surrounding the early years and rise of Eredin Breacc Glas and his generals.





	1. Fortune Favours the Ruthless

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Wild Hunt](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12161082) by [fizzbuzzler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzbuzzler/pseuds/fizzbuzzler). 



They left as the sun peeked over the cleft in the Easnadh Mountains. The morning was borderline bitter.There wasn't a patch of cloudless sky and the ground was stilled with a thick, crystalline frost. The first snow of the season was coming, and with it, a long winter. Despite the weather, Tir na Lia yawned and rose together, like any other day. A young elf with dark hair, led by his mentor, slipped away unnoticed, shrouded by a sleepy autumnal sky coloured slate as stone. Barren trees shook their goodbye’s. The two rode east, away from the capitol, on the main road. There were little to no travelers out, as most of the merchants and wayfarers had found a place to settle for the coming winter. The path grew rougher as the city grew small on the horizon. Eredin's steed, a palomino mare, failed to falter. 

Avallac'h rode a few strides ahead, looking regal atop the grey-muzzled bay he had so lovingly held onto for the majority of the beast’s life. A fur-lined cape rested on his broad shoulders, brown in colour. His long grey hair was out of his face, secured by small braids that lay on his chest. Eredin mimicked the regalia of the mage, steeling his shivering body and sitting high atop his horse. And so they journeyed like statues, silent and unmoving, nearly identical in every way. 

They passed a number of stone altars. Some included flickering candles and small statuettes with piles of offering at their feet. Others were nothing more than a large tablet with a prayer etched into it, stuffed in the frozen ground. They piqued Eredin's interest. He was interested to know to whom they were dedicated, and what sort of followers the deity attracted. However, he knew his mentor was in no mood to tarry, and he continued on without a word. 

“On your left,” Avallac'h announced to a group of women slowly making their way back to a village perched in the foothills. They turned quickly and took double takes at the duo, obviously noting that they must have been from Tir na Lia. The women stepped to the side of the road and watched the mage and his student ride past. Eredin made eye contact with a young woman with fiery red hair and a bastard sword strapped to her back with leather holds. She looked at him the way one would look at a dragon. Fear, respect, and fascination ringed her light brown eyes. Eredin decided that he enjoyed that look. So much so that he promised himself that he would see that look again. With that, he nudged the mare on, leaving the women behind.

By the time the red sun was falling behind the Palace of Awakening, Avallac'h dismounted, taking the reins of his horse and slipping the bridle off. Eredin followed suit, swinging his leg over the mare and stepping out of the stirrups. His feet tingled, his muscles burned, and his groin was uncomfortably sore. He nearly stumbled and had to grab onto the blonde withers of the mare to steady himself. Avallac'h stared, amused, and tended to Eredin's horse while the younger elf stretched his legs. Avallac'h let the horses loose to graze in the thawing grasses in the nearby meadow. 

“Come, Eredin,” said the mage. “We’ve just a little ways.” They hiked to the mouth of a cave, unlabled, unadulterated, and seemingly unclaimed. Avallac'h strode in and began following the winding pathways with the air of a king in his castle. 

The cave was frigid, despite the iron fire pits that lined the corridors. The air was stale and musty, devoid of any trace of water. The sounds of life echoed eerily through the wild corridors of the cave, rebounding this way and that. “Unfortunately,” Avallach's voice was robust. “I am not the first, nor last, to discover this system of caves,” he voice Eredin's observations. 

“What else is here?” he queried, warm air escaping his lips in a smoke like vapor. 

“Creatures of the night. Spectres, kelpies, werewolves, et cetera,” Avallac'h paused his gait and took a moment to take the cape from his shoulders and fasten it round Eredin's slight shoulders. 

“Have you come across any?” His hands disappeared in the folds of the layered fabric, trying to stay warm.

“In my younger years. Since then, I have established a formidable reputation and am left alone. You will face the same in your own travels. Fortune favours those who bite back.”

Eredin pondered his mentor's words. “Should I bite back hard enough, I’ve no need for fortune.”

Avallac'h only scoffed.

They continued quietly until they reached another opening that lead to a massive hall, formations hanging from the high ceiling. Tall statues of kings and queens with their heads bowed presented large brass bowls for fire. A small brook cut through the hall, beneath a small bridge. Ruins littered the floor. Skeletons were slumped on the cave ground, pillars lying in a crumbled disarray, chests and armoires broken and plundered. At the north end of the hall was a raised platform with cabinets ad wooden tables lining the perimeter. Opened journals, phials of fluid, clippings of plants were all littered on the worn tables. Unopened letters were scattered about, as were various trinkets and talismans. The disarray was striking to Eredin. Bookshelves were stacked high as the sentinels and a fireplace lay cold between them. A thurible hung from the ceiling and revolved slowly with the air currents. 

“Vaer'trouv deith!” Avallac'h bellowed in the darkness. At once, flames jumped up from the brass bowls to the fireplace to every last candle wick. He quickly started down the stairs and strode to the platform, speaking as he did. “This was once a place of worship, specifically for mourners, though there were some devout believers that attended this place regularly. Now, it is nothing but a ruin. This was my grand-teacher's private laboratory. He re-purposed it long after the fall of this archaic religion. He passed it to my tutor and now it belongs to me and eventually, it will belong to you and after you, your student's. Your magickal ability is strikingly keen, but talent is not enough to serve your realm. It is time for you to apply your gifts. Our lessons have taken you to a fork in the road, Eredin. If you are satisfied with where you are now, we can stop. Or, we can continue on in our studies, and, with the use of my laboratory, your own studies, and I can continue to teach you all I know.” He turned to face his student, who was transfixed with the full skull of a basilisk on the desk.

“Like what?” Eredin queried, the beginnings of ambition lining his voice like the cold before a frost. 

“I shall teach you a more advanced magickal theory, as well as application and chemistry. Divination, dark magic, haruspicy," Avallac'h paused. "Navigating."

He mulled over Avallach's words, wandering to the bookshelf where he examined a portrait of a boy about his age, sketched with pencil on an old piece of parchment. He was obviously elven, with a fair face and golden blond locks and a sly look in his sketched eyes. Eredin scrutinised the drawing. “Can we begin now?”

Avallac'h offered a rare smile to his protege. “We can.”


	2. The Golden Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fast forwarding a few years into his late teenaged years, Eredin meets a young man who will become one of his closest confidants.

The bleary shower of rain that fell steadily throughout the thawing day wasn't a surprise for early April, but that didn't make it any less welcome. It came in the morning and alternated between soft spatterings of fat drops on the roofs of the buildings in Tir na Lia and strong torrents that sent anything that wasn't tied down washing through the streets. People were holed up in their homes, glowing windows fogged with the relentless chill of a relentless winter. Somewhere, a wolf howled, lonesome, and a bird of prey soared silently through the starless sky. A lone horsemen rode through the streets, sat tall atop a black shire horse. The sound of wet hooves clipped and clopped on the drenched cobblestone streets. The rider dismounted outside of a building and tied the reins to a rotting post. Gloved hands rising to his hood, he entered the establishment. 

The smell of baking bread greeted him, along with the heavy scent of alcohol and a sweet note of wine. Accompanying it was the scent of damn wood and the dry smell of a crackling fire. A handful of patrons loitered in the hall, some sitting at tables, others standing by the fire. It was quiet, save the sound of the soft murmurs of the patrons, the snap of the firewood, and the sound of drinks being refilled. The bargoers hardly paid any mind to the newcomer, giving him a passing glance, perhaps a double take and a word of greeting, and nothing more.The wooden panels beneath his feet creaked as he made his way to the counter. The barmaid looked up at the dripping patron, then respectfully looked away. She busied herself with cleaning a counter that need not be cleaned. "What can I get for you?" A voice spoke up behind him. 

"Sirene," Eredin greeted the elderly woman with a pleasant scowl.

"They say your face'll get stuck like that," she shot him a look, walking behind the counter and busying herself with the answer to her own question.

"Like what?" 

Sirene mimicked his glower. "Try smiling." Eredin offered her a weak, toothy grimace. The old barmaid laughed and Eredin's smile turned genuine. " _Weddin_ ," she rolled her eyes. Despite their great age difference, the adolescent elf dwarfed her, standing a head or two higher than her. His body was still gawky, however. His bones were prominent and constantly sore, and his body was still littered with the soft downy fur of childhood. He sat down with a mug of hot buttered rum and took careful sips of the steaming drink. The alcohol left him pleasantly warm and buzzing. As he waited for his food, Eredin studied the patrons leisurely. Some faces were familiar, either from Auberon's court or merchants and smiths about Tir na Lia. He recognised an elf warming his hands by the hearth as one of the more talented archers in Auberon's inventory. The man, sensing Eredin's gaze, looked up at him. Eredin didn't relent, instead waiting for the archer to turn his eyes back to the flames. Others were less familiar, like shepherds from the city outskirts, or even travelers from abroad. A figure cloaked in black caught his pearly eyes. They moved slowly as they paced from end to end of the tavern. Eredin's interest was piqued. The stranger went to the younger barmaid and spoke to her in hushed tones. He tried to pick up what words were said, but even his sharp ears weren't enough to make sense of it. His eyes narrowed, watching her reach into her pocket and hand him a pouch of coin, hands moving as if she was in a trance. Eredin stood sharply, though he wasn't quite sure what to do next. The stranger turned from the barmaid, who slumped onto the ground, and ran out of the tavern. 

Eredin gave chase. 

The stranger was quick, leaping down the steps up to the tavern and quickly gestured again with his hands. With a  _crack-boom!_ a black ringed portal opened. The figure turned and shouted an incantation at Eredin. Before the spell could register, he was countering, trying to block the hex. They were powerful - shockingly so. The brunt of the blocked magick still knocked Eredin off balance. By the time the young elf had recovered the, portal was almost gone, the thief inside of it. Just before it closed, Eredin reopened it. Heavy rain splattering his clothes, he jumped through. His guts felt like they were being pulled apart, his head pounded with a mallet. Eredin gritted his teeth and tried to bear it until...

He stumbled to the ground.  _Hard_. His stomach lurched, but he managed to keep himself from dry heaving. The grass was wet with dew, and somewhere in the distance, water roared. Eredin took in his surroundings. He had landed on the edge of a sheer promontory, dropping down into the raging, grey seas. A small village was on the horizon. Stone ruins were scattered about the grasslands, permeated with the remains of broken fences and various entrails of society. His eyes focused on the figure sprinting towards a orange and black ringed portal fifty or so metres away. Eredin growled and focused hard, feeling himself be taken apart once more. 

He reconfigured on the heels of the shrouded figure, and quickly continued sprinted after him. The cool air, laden with the strong scent of salt and rotting seaweed, stung his face, drawing tears out of his narrowed eyes. Eredin lunged at the figure, messily tackling him to the mud. He straddled him, knee pressing into the thief's gut. He groaned and began trying to mutter another slew of incantations. Eredin pounced, holding the man's mouth and nose shut. "I've proved my magical prowess and my physical superiority. Don't make me prove my relentlessness as well. Now...can you shut up?" The stranger gave a strangled reply, skin turning red. It sounded affirmative, so Eredin let the stranger breathe. The man gasped and reached up to pull his hood off, proving that he was hardly a man at all. The hood had shrouded a youthful, pretty face with golden hair and sharp, angry eyes. He was perhaps a few decades Eredin's junior, and looked familiar. Shockingly familiar, in fact. 

"Get the fuck off me!" he screamed, still breathless. 

"No," said Eredin. "Who are you? And where are we?"

The blonde glared at him and tried to shift his body to relieve some of the pain. The effort, however, was to no avail. He sighed heavily. "My name is Caranthir Ar- Feiniel. We're on Undvik."

"Have we met before?"

"I would've remembered a giant child with navigating ability who randomly tackles innocent people," Caranthir said sourly. Eredin offered him a sideways glance.

"I'd hardly call you innocent. But I'm honoured you find me memorable."

Caranthir huffed again - he obviously hadn't meant to compliment him. "Who taught you how to navigate?" 

Eredin paused. The younger elf was extremely powerful and learned in using his powers for his ulterior motives. He tried to imagine the repercussions of telling the truth. Trusting both his and Avallac'h's powers, he relinquished the information. "Crevan Espane aep Caomhan Macha." Caranthir's green eyes widened. 

"Avallac'h?" 

"Does he mean something to you?"

"We're close," Caranthir said, though his tone was too nonchalant to fool Eredin. The taller elf pondered the situation. 

"I'll let you go free, without a word to anyone, as long as you stay indebted to me."

"Indebted to you? What all could that mean?"

"Anything." 

"And if I don't?" Caranthir queried. 

"I'll show you how far I will go to make you pay for what I've given you."

"The best I can give you is companionship." The younger elf was obviously joking, but Eredin seriously considered the offer. Caranthir could be a very powerful friend. He was a capable mage with great potential, a quick mind, and - if need be - a disregard for morality. It would prove useful someday, Eredin swore it. He stood slowly, ready for Caranthir to escape immediately. He didn't, giving another pained groan and a ginger rub to his side. Eredin proffered his leather gloved hand and, with little hesitation, Caranthir took it. 

"Companionship will do," Eredin said. Caranthir opened a portal and paused just before he walked through, stopping the taller elf with a touch on the shoulder. Eredin blinked at the touch and stared down at the thief inquisitively.

"I never got  _you_ _r_ name," Caranthir prompted.

"Eredin Bréacc Glas."

Caranthir nodded, content. "That's a good name. People are going to fear it someday."

"Only if I'm lucky." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors or continuity problems. It's almost 1 am here and I'm sorry but I cannot reread this smh. will go back later. comments and kudos are always appreciated (:


	3. Morning Mood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even evil elves deserve love occasionally. This takes place in Eredin's adolescent years.

A trace of light glowed from far away on below the eastern horizon. It was nothing but a pale yellow flush on the dark purple sky, but nonetheless, morning was coming. The tall hawthorn trees shook in the cold morning breeze, the leaves creating a symphony of songs shushing through the thin air. Eredin sat round the extinguished fire and yawned. Exhaustion throbbed in his skull. 

An elf slept beside him, curled on the hard ground, squeezed into the foetal position for warmth. He was young, around Eredin's age, with a smooth face held in a neutral expression, save the occasional flick of his cheeks or roll of his closed eyes. Like most elves, his skin was devoid of blemishes and freckles. He was built like a mage, lean and slim. Fine muscles devoid of excess clung to his bones, giving him a tree-like body. Caranthir was his name. He boasted an incredible magic prowess, a keenness for the political arena, and a close friendship with Eredin. 

Eredin stood and sat down on the east facing cliff and daringly let his legs drape over the ledge. He sat there for a long while, counting the minutes away until his attention was diverted to a beetle in the grass or the sight of fires disappearing in the town of Tir na Lia, nestled in the foothills. He could hear Caranthir rousing behind him. The elf was unlike human mages in that he gave little concern for the flora and the fauna. 

Caranthir sat beside Eredin, legs hanging off of the ledge. He let loose a silent yawn and tied his long blonde hair into a haphazard bun.He took a drink of water from the wineskin and set it aside in the grass.“Let me ask you something,” he promoted his companion beside him

“Anything,” Eredin said, voice gravelly with disuse. 

“Do you plan to stay here? In Auberon's court?” He said abruptly. Eredin nearly flinched, the prompt shaking him from his sluggish morning stupor.

“I suppose so, yes,” he mused. “What is it to you?” 

Caranthir shrugged. “I just wondered…”

“Wondered about what?”

The mage looked at him with emerald eyes, nearly glowing in the pale light. “Your future in relation to us. Our friendship. I fear that our time together might be coming to an end.”

Eredin grunted and looked out at the horizon. He leaned back on his hand, fingers threading through the cold dew laden grass. They sat in silence for a while, the croons of nightingales and the distant crash of falling water ringing. “What of you? When you complete your studies, will you serve as Royal Mage or will you take your independence and traverse the realms?” 

“I think I would like to serve the King. Just to stay near.”

Eredin pried, though he was clever enough to know the answer. “Stay near to who?”

“You, of course.” The Sky was light enough to betray the beginnings of a blush on Caranthir's cheeks. Eredin respected him enough to let it pass.

"I think I would like to be the King someday. When Auberon dies, I would come to power and restore the Aen Elle to our former ambition and glory."

“I would serve you just as well.” The two elves looked at each other at the same time. Emeralds met pearls, and then they fell. The sun began to rise over the eastern horizon, casting linear rays of golden light to pierce through the foggy clouds. Caranthir's hand rose and his fingers, laden with calluses, slowly touched Eredin's jaw with a tenderness that did not fit his character, as if Eredin was a snowflake about to melt away. His hand cupped his jaw and ran back to the base of his skull and sifted through his straight black locks.  A shiver ran through Eredin's spine and his lips parted, releasing a quick exhale of vapour. Caranthir gently pulled Eredin closer. Feeling the soft pull, the youth's pearl eyes grew as hard as diamonds. He did not like to be forced. So he moved himself and brought their foreheads to touch. 

Caranthir took a shaky breath. Eredin could hear the mage's blood roaring, feel his heart beating. Their heads angled and their lips brushed, barely ghosting against one another. They brushed again and this time closed around one another. Eredin's spare hand came to hold Caranthir's cheek. His thumb ran over his smooth face, flesh burning despite the crisp air. 

They pulled away and were stuck staring at one another for a while until Eredin dropped his hand and turned his attention back to the risen sun. Caranthir did the same wordlessly. Eredin's face grew cold where the mage's hand had been. Just as he was missing the other’s touch, Carathir's hand found its way to his. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will try to update again before finals week, but no promises (: at any rate, comments and kudos always make updating a ton easier.


End file.
